Unsaid
by Atari-chan
Summary: Some things are better left unsaid. Why use words, when actions are so much clearer? HW slash.


_Summary: Some things are better left unsaid. Why use words, when actions are so much clearer? HW slash._

Start Story:

House felt his chest constrict painfully as he realised that, despite all that they had been through together, he could do nothing but watch, helplessly, as Wilson actually held back tears, unable to contain his reaction to the complete and utter rejection he'd just received. He wanted to help; God, he wanted to take the other man in his arms and tell him it was all gonna be okay, but… when was life ever gonna be okay? When was it ever not a complete and utter bitch?

And so, he just stood there. He stood there and saw Wilson's hand shaking as he reached up to run a hand through his hair; saw- and almost felt- the pain in Wilson's throat as he swallowed, still suppressing the want to cry; saw the film of tears that threatened to drop from the eyes of his best goddamn friend, and still he did nothing. And as he did so, he felt something inside of him break. Something he knew was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

Slowly, awkwardly, and having to force himself to give in to what should have been the most natural thing in the world, House reached out and placed a hand on Wilson's shoulder, another painful wrench in his chest as the other man actually flinched. He was scared… Wilson was actually scared of him.

Hardly even realising that he was moving, in the impact of the realisation, House moved his hand. Moved his hand, to tenderly stroke Wilson's cheek with the back of a finger. By the time he realised what he was doing, though, Wilson had already pulled away, unable to take the pain that the action had caused him. House had screwed him over, _royally_, he had caused him anguish that all three of his ex-wives combined could never even hope to achieve, and the gesture had stirred in him something he knew he should repress. It had stirred, not all that deep inside of him, underneath the anger and the hurt, the unconditional love he felt for the other man, and with it the knowledge that he would do absolutely anything for House, while the other man would happily stand and watch while Wilson had his nuts nibbled by rabid ferrets. Wilson knew that whatever House did, he would never be able to stop loving him.

House had frozen, his hand suspended in midair for a moment as he struggled to comprehend his own actions. He took a deep breath, trying desperately to compose himself, but a single glance at his friend told him that maybe, for a change, composition wasn't what he needed. Maybe… he needed to open up. To let himself get hurt because somehow, deep in the dark recesses of his brain that he'd long attempted to suppress, whatever suffering could be inflicted on him was no worse than seeing Wilson like this. Completely and utterly helpless, when faced with his best friend. And somehow, that helplessness was what made House do it. Made House reach out again, to place his palm flat on Wilson's cheek.

He saw the reaction; saw Wilson struggling against the want to pull away and the _need_ to lean against that hand, and saw the threat of rejection. And in that threat, he realised, fully, that this one moment could make or break their relationship. The one thing he had going for him. And so, he did all he could really do. Without words, because for all his sarcastic comments and jokes, he had never been any good at phrasing his own feelings, he allowed his fingers to curve downwards, cupping Wilson's chin as he tilted it up, forcing the other man to face him because he knew it wouldn't mean anything any other way.

"House-" Wilson started to speak, trying desperately to stop this, aware that on the infinitesimal chance House was actually going to say something emotional, he would break instantly. But he was silenced; silenced by House's mouth on his, saying more than words ever could. And definitely more than _House_ ever could. And, God, he needed it. Needed to _feel_ that reassurance, those surprisingly soft lips moving against his in an unspoken confession.

Wilson raised his hands to place them flat on House's chest, not entirely sure if he was trying to push the other man away or just test to see if he was really there. His question was answered by the distinct disappointment he felt as the other man pull away in reaction, although that warm hand remained on his cheek, thumb slowly moving upwards to catch the first tear that dropped as Wilson, confused and scared by his own feelings as well as House's, found himself unable to hold them back. Softly, House brushed that tear away, following thumb with forefinger as another threatened to follow it, before speaking.

"I'm scared."

It was a statement of fact, no emotion in the tone or expression, but Wilson knew that those words were just as significant as any he'd ever hear from the other man. And he answered in the same way; his statement not referring to the feelings he longed to confess or the emotions he'd long suppressed, but to the fact of their relationship; the only part that House could really deal with; an answer to an unspoken question.

"You don't need to be."

Wilson took a moment, his eyes overflowing with sincerity, emotion and those goddamn tears that just wouldn't stop falling, to let House examine him, insecurity and that ever-present fear of rejection more obvious than they'd ever been. Despite that, though, despite everything House had ever done to him, Wilson still loved him. And as his hands snaked up to curve around House's neck, fingers toying softly with his hairline, he proved it. Gave himself completely and utterly over to a man who could ruin him, with a single kiss.

"You don't need to be," he repeated, and almost instantly felt House's spare arm around his waist, pulling him closer. Closer, physically _and_ emotionally, than they'd ever been before. He could feel House tensing, feel just how scared he was. And he smiled. House acted differently with him than anyone else, and finally, he knew exactly why.

End

_The time setting for this is a little ambiguous… whichever fits best. Inspired by the episode that aired in the UK last week; House's shoulder hurts because he feels guilty. If I got a TV guide, I could tell you which episode it was. But I don't._

_You know it's true. They love each other. Like you love pie._

_Comments, criticisms, penis pumps. Send 'em, I'm listening._


End file.
